Planting a Memory

Sometimes I just have days I want to preserve in my memory. Days that maybe are not super special, but just feel lovely and worth remembering.

Like last night, when I strapped my 2.5 year old (who is the size of a small kindergartner) onto my back with the Erg* and inadvertently stumbled into a concert at the botanical gardens. I don't want to forget the way he rested his head contently on my back as we waited in line for our food, or the way he ate his whole cup of applesauce with a spoon, or how he clapped during each pause in the music.

I don't want to forget how we made our first trip into the "train garden." How he spent nearly an hour chasing trains in every direction, nearly gobsmacked at the fantasy land we had entered. How he almost lost his voice from lovingly cooing "choo choo" repeatedly for an hour....barely taking a breath. How he proclaimed "bye, choo choo" and blew a kiss to each train we walked by on our way out.

I don't want to forget the way it felt to hike back to our car, the weather absolute perfection, and the way his soft little hands felt lovingly holding my arms as handles while he rode on my back.

I don't want to forget that just a few hours earlier, I was in a heavy gray dress and heels, preparing for an uneventful and boring night at home. How one little spur of the moment decision and a pair of shorts could change the direction of our evening so entirely and give me the gift of a wonderful night with my favorite boy.